


Kiss Me in the Snow

by cutiepie_0126



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Soft Boys, Spanking, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiepie_0126/pseuds/cutiepie_0126
Summary: "When everything is dead in the frosty winter- the trees, the flowers, the grass- Simon Snow is unfairly and especially alive. His nose turns red and the puffs of hot air that escape his rose lips are nearly as captivating as he is. Nearly."soft boys kiss in a cabin.





	1. Chapter 1

Baz

When everything is dead in the frosty winter- the trees, the flowers, the grass- Simon Snow is unfairly and especially alive. His nose turns red and the puffs of hot air that escape his rose lips are nearly as captivating as he is. Nearly. I come up behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder.  
"It's cold." I don't mind the cold, but I push my hands under his shirt anyway. He wriggles, turning to scrunch his nose at me.  
"You can go inside, you prat."  
"But you're so warm." (He's a fire and I'm so flammable.)  
"I can go in with you."  
I don't reply, just trace circles against his warm skin, right under his belly button. The snow on the ground is soft, fresh. Some flakes blow through the air, catching on Snow's eyelashes and his bronze curls. I place a kiss under ear, on a mole. (I treat it like a bullseye and I never miss.) I don't linger, just a reminder.  
"I'm cold." I grumble into his shoulder, removing my hands and wrapping my arms around him. He sighs, another puff of air escaping him. (I can't stop watching his lips.)  
"Let's go inside, baby."  
I love when Simon Snow calls me baby. 

The cabin Snow's staying in (courtesy of Penny) is in the moutains, so it's contantly cold. It's rustic and sweet, with an oversized fireplace and a faux fur carpet. Agatha once told me that it was faux because of cruelty and blah, blah, blah.  
I pull off my coat and watch Snow undress, pulling off his jacket and then his shirt.  
I could watch the muscles in his shoulders for days.  
He bends over to prod the fire, and I sink onto the floor, shivering. Maybe it was cold.  
"You're shivering."  
He's brilliant.  
"Did you think that up on your own?" There's no posion in the words.  
He frowns, pushing out his bottom lip.  
(I love his lips.)  
"Don't be mean, Baz." He turns to face me. He straddles my hips, sitting on my lap. My hands are drawn to him like he's a magnet- tracking and grasping his hips, pulling him closer.  
"You forget," I muse, kissing his bare shoulder. My fangs pop when I nip at his exposed skin. Horny bastards. "I am mean."  
Snow pulls away from the assualt on his skin, frowning for real now. He grabs my chin with his hand (his hands are big and warm. So warm.) forcing me to meet his eyes.  
"No." It's an order. I nod. Because I'm hopeless. Because I would do anything Simon Snow tells me.  
He leans down, watching me through his long lashes. I forget to breathe, even though we kiss so often that it's become like breathing, as his soft, slightly chapped lips capture mine. He's sweet and the kiss is innocent.  
Ask anyone and they'll tell you I'm disturbed.  
I press into the kiss, into his heat, and groan. He presses back, his hand that was gripping my chin sliding down my chest (Why am I still wearing a shirt?). I grasp his free hand, drawing it close to my face. I break the kiss and kiss the top of his hand. Because I'm sweet.  
He pulls his hands back and kisses me again, sneaking his hands under my shirt. He's unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom.  
I roll his lip into my mouth and he groans, gasping quietly.  
"I love you." He says it like a prayer. I kiss him.  
"I love you," he repeats, kissing me. Over and over and over, not letting me pull him in. Multiple.  
"I love you too." He's a tragedy. "I love you, Simon." And I cannot live without him.


	2. Kiss Me in the Snow (nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Baz always kisses like the world is on fire and I’m the last gasp of air he can capture before he goes up in flames.“ 
> 
> Soft boys go funky in a cabin.

Simon

Baz always kisses like the world is on fire and I’m the last gasp of air he can capture before he goes up in flames. For years, I thought I was the fore and I would be the one to take him out. And I’m still not one-hundred percent that I won’t.   
“Stop.” Under my palms, Baz’s chest rattles and I focus on him. His dark eyebrows are drawn together, risen. He raises a hand, outlining my jaw. His hand is cold. (I told him we did’t have to stay out for as long as we did. Prat.) “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.”   
“I don’t think.” My voice is high and breathy and I lean into his touch. He’s so cold and I’m so warm. Opposites. Perfect match.   
“You’re thinking.” He accuses, pulling his other hand from mine and wrapping his arms around me, forcing me in close.   
I hum in response, falling onto his bare chest. (Our chests- rising and falling. Merlin and Morgan, this is perfection.) He trails his spindly fingers up my spin, and I place a chaste kiss to where his neck and shoulder meet. His cold fingers paint invisible pictures on my skin and I shiver.   
I press into him. Melting. Letting him touch me into a puddle of nothingness.   
“Snow,”   
“Simon.”   
“Simon,” he punctuates, leaning up and kissing me. It’s tender and I lean into it. (I can feel his heartbeat in his lips.) “Simon, Simon, Simon.” A mantra- a prayer between kisses. It sparks something, melting hunger frozen from the cold.   
I grasp his hand, drawing it up my leg. Baz spreads his fingers, running the palm up my thigh as the kisses pick up passion.   
He’s flammable and I’m fire.   
His hands run up my thighs, brushing my hips with his thumbs, sliding inward.   
My cock fills at the thought of this- us. (As if I hadn’t dreamt about it.) I bite his lip and he growls- deep and low- and pulls away.   
“Sorry, I’m-,” I start. His dark eyes are glittering with something tangible and hot. He doesn’t let me finish, pushing me off his lap.   
“Shut up, Simon Snow.”   
Watching Baz take off his belt is an act of pure magic. 

Baz  
The blood on my lip is hot and sweet. If my fangs weren’t already out, they would be now. Snow looks like a gift- sprawled back on his elbows, looking up at me, nerves flashing across his face, his dick tenting the front of his trousers. (Sweatpants- Merlin is good.) I don’t let him rest, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them off.  
“Baz.” He’s watching me with doe eyes, and I crawl between his thighs, persuading them further. Heavenly. He’s on his back, half on the faux carpet. I lean down and kiss him. Harsh. Like we’re running out of air to breathe.   
“Fuck, Simon.” I groan against his lips, pressing my own hard-on against his. He rolls his hips in response, grinning.   
“You said my- Aah.” I palm him back into silence. I untie the sweatpants and take a second, pulling them off his long legs. (His skin looks like the night sky, littered with freckles and moles.) I straddle him, and he reaches for me.   
I grab his wrist and press them above his head and he gasps. I could listen to that sound all day.   
His cock presses against the grey of his pants, a dark bead of precum wet where the head is. With finality, I press his wrist again.   
“Keep your hands there or I stop.” Warning, the only on I give before I start trailing down his naked chest with cool kisses.   
His cross is hanging in our joint bathroom, far away from this, from us. I kiss the hallow of his throat where it sits most of the time. I belong here.   
When I reach his nipple, Simon positively moans when I lick across his left one. His backs arches and I press him back down, biting him with my front teeth.  
(I’m careful, always. I could never hurt him, but he’d forgive me if I did. I wouldn’t.)   
“Baz!” He shouts, arching into me. His nipple have always been sensitive. I pull back, blowing air across it. It hardens and I grin. The wet spot in his pants grows. I treat the other nipple with the same care before kissing down his naval. Simon’s moans are musical.   
When I press a kiss to the bulge, Simon breaks. 

Simon   
I can’t help it. When he kisses me between my thighs, I break, hands racing to grasp his hair. (I love his hair- perfect for tugging.)   
Baz goes rigid, pulling away.   
I pull my hands back, realizing my mistake. His face is lit with mischief- his “plotting” face. Baz- pale chest barely flushed- rocks back onto his feet, standing.   
“Baz.” I beg. I’m not above begging.   
“Get up, Snow.” I shiver, and he pulls me to my feet. Chest-to-chest. We’ve done this a few times, and I deserve this. He walks backwards, pulling with him. The couch catches his weight and he pulls me into his lap, his dick digging into my ass. My own cock jumps at the feeling.   
“You know what you did.” He whispers into the shell of my ear. I don’t look at him.   
“Yes.”   
“You know how this goes?”   
“Yes.”   
“Colour?”  
“Green.”   
And like clockwork, he stands me up, pulling my pants down. My dick slaps against my stomach and my cheeks darken with embarrassment. He kisses the small of my back.   
“Hand me my belt and bend over my knee.” 

Baz  
Simon’s knees shake as he bends over to grab my belt. He shuffles back to me, not looking up at me. I stop him, taking his chin in my hand. His doe-eyes glimmer with lust. Yes. I kiss him, and he bends over my knee.   
“I think,” I place a hand on his back, taking the belt in my other. I let the leather drag against the skin of his thighs and ass. “Ten. For disobeying. You count.”   
He nods against my thigh. (This is everything Fifth-year Baz ever wanted. I am living a blessed life.) I admire his ass, the pretty, perfect skin. Then, I pull my hand back and bring the belt down, watching red bloom. He gasps, jolting, his bare cock dragging against my thigh.   
“One.” His voice is high and breathy. Good. I bring the belt down again, and again, and again.   
“S-seven.” Simon moans, tears coating his cheeks. His thighs and butt are littered with lashes. I rub the red, relishing in the heat. The drip of precum from Simon’s hard dick is coating my thigh.   
With my free hand, I spread his ass. His asshole- small, clean, and pink- winks. I bring the belt down again, right against the little hole. Simon howls, jolting forward. He’s rutting against my thigh.   
“Eight, Baz, fuck.”   
I bring the last two lashes down quickly against his thighs and drop the belt, pulling Simon up to sit on my lap. He’s crying, his cock purple and flushed angrily. My own cock is hard, ready for him.   
“Baz, Baz, I’m sorry,” He sobs, grinding down. I push my pants down, letting my own cock jump into the space between us. “Please, please,”   
“Please what?” I’m disturbed.   
“Fuck me, please, make me yours.” He whimpers, pressing the heat of our cocks together. I smile and kiss him, cupping his ass.   
I don’t reply, just whisper a spell to wet me and I adjust him to hover over my cock.

Simon  
I feel the wet tip press against my hole. Not entering, just pressing and waiting.   
“You want to be fucked?” Baz whispers and I moan. I feel sinful-like the fire inside of my is all igniting in my stomach. I sink onto him. I hold his shoulders as his shaft breeches my hole- stretching me open.  
When I’m seated completely, panting, I can feel his cock throbbing inside me. Holy Merlin and Morgan, fuck.   
“Please.” I whisper. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He grabs my hips, rising me and setting me back down, ramming into me, again and again and again. I lace my fingers in his hair, kissing him. Hot. Passionate. He rams me until my cock is twitching, precum streaming between us.   
The ball in my stomach is cranking. Tighter and tighter and tighter.   
“Baz, Baz, I’m cumming, please.” He kisses me harder and speeds up, throbbing.   
White. Blinding. Hot.   
Between us, my cock jerks with hot cum- coating our navels and chests, and he holds my hips down- filling me with his hot seed. I cry, screaming into the kiss. Yes, yes, yes. 

When it’s over, he lift me off of his lap. I can feel him watching his cum drip out of me, and he kisses the curve of my ass.   
“Shower?”   
“Come on, Simon.”   
I love him. I love when he calls me Simon.


End file.
